


Don't stop.

by moomoop



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Morty Smith, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rick's POV, Top Rick Sanchez, i guess??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moomoop/pseuds/moomoop
Summary: Rick is drinking (again) and reflects over some inconveniences during season 3 and reaches a conclusion (maybe?).





	Don't stop.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr (halyconic). i've been slowly coming around to posting my shit from there to here, but ya know.
> 
> tried writing from Rick's pov for the first time ever. hopefully it wasn't too crazy out of character. if it is, blame the inebriation.

It was dark in Morty’s room.

The pale yellow curtains were drawn shut and his blinds beneath were twisted into a solid barrier of white, blocking the street lamp from shining through. The overhead light was off and the batteries to his alarm clock had died a couple weeks ago, no longer powering the neon red numbers.

And Rick had made sure to shut the door firmly when he stumbled in this time.

He had drank more than he should’ve tonight, nearing almost another blackout. He had been good about avoiding those since the Vindicators incident. He knows how much the blackouts bother Morty, and he isn’t about to mess up what they have now.

Rick didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if he managed that.

But this was some kind of exception, Rick had reasoned with himself, drowning the pathetic part of his brain that pulled up images of Morty’s Disappointed Face. And it was. To an extent.

Jerry had been welcomed back.

Pathetic, useless, _stupid_ Jerry.

That irritating parasite of a _son-in-law_.

And the inadequate father (read: Sperm Donor) of his beloved Morty.

So yeah. He may have drank a bit too much to soothe the bubbling rage in his gut. Fuck him. He was trying to be on his best behavior for his daughter.

And maybe Morty.

_Maybe._

Which is why he had bit his tongue, knowing that no matter what he had to spit in their faces---especially Jerry’s weasel one---and drank himself stupid to blur the red that threatened to take over.

Which is also what brought him upstairs from where he had been wallowing in the garage.

Because even though he was burning through liquor like water to a man in a desert, Rick couldn’t block out that stupid relieved look on Morty’s face when he caved to Beth’s pleas. Because no matter how much alcohol sloshed around in his gut, it didn’t fill that hole that Morty had punched into his chest.

_“Morty, where’s my portal gun? Let’s get out of here.”_

_“I’m staying here, Rick.”_

Because even though Rick knew it was going to come down to this, going to come down between him and Jerry, it didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch. Because even though Rick knew, despite the fact that Morty had never said so aloud, Morty missed his worthless piece of shit of a father. Because no matter how much time Rick spent with him, they didn’t have that father-son bond. They had an entirely different relationship, which Rick should be grateful for.

But that didn’t stop that black pit in his gut from growing that had started during Vindicators 3.

_“Oh please. They just call themselves heroes so that they can---”_

_“I’m calling them that, Rick! They’re my heroes! Mine!”_

_“Huh, no accounting for taste. I’m gonna go get a drink.”_

There were just some roles in Morty’s life that Rick could not fill.

As much as he wanted to, Rick was just going to have to get over it.

Because Morty deserved that much.

Morty deserved a happy family.

Or as happy as they all could be with how dysfunctional they were.

Which was what compelled his feet to move his body through the house.

He had to make Morty see that he understood.

So when he had entered the teen’s room, he hadn’t bothered with the light switch as he normally did at this time of night. Because this was not a night for some bizarre adventure that requested Morty’s company.

Instead, he stumbled through the dark void of Morty’s bedroom, tripping over a bookbag and stubbing his toe on the bedpost, cursing quietly and dropping his flask.

And that was what woke the boy and what spiraled them to where they were now.

Because even though Rick could hardly differentiate between shadows, that didn’t stop the muffled gasps and choked whimpers coming from the boy beneath him. From the way his breath rushed out of him, Rick could tell that Morty was covering his mouth.

_Jesus Christ, just let it out. I know you want to scream for me like you do when we’re alone in the garage._

Huffing, Rick pressed his fully-clothed front to Morty’s bare, relishing in the fluttery way the boy’s body moved against his, and proceeded to nip whatever skin he could reach. Hips bucked against his stomach and Rick groaned at the stuttered slide of Morty’s erection as it caught against his shirt.

A squeal leaked from between fingers and echoed in the dark, causing Rick to chuckle. Morty’s ears were always so sensitive, and he loved the reactions he could pull from his grandson. With a long, heated sigh, Rick traced the shell of the boy’s ear, dipping in occasionally to fuck with him a little.

_I wanna hear you scream for me, baby. I want your fucking moron of a father to wake up to you. I want him to see how much you need me instead._

The reaction was almost instantaneous.

Thighs mashed themselves to his hips as means to anchor and those bony hips gave another delicious stutter. More mewls poured from that small sweet mouth, and Rick felt his breath catch in his throat when Morty fluttered around his fingers.

He was only two deep inside and Morty was already squirming shamelessly.

“R-R-Rick…!”

Teeth joined his tongue as he began to tug on an earlobe, eyes almost rolling back when small hands gripped his shoulders.

“R-Rick, _please_!”

_God, your whispers are so cute. You’re trying so hard, baby. You need to let go and just enjoy._

_Let me make you happy_ \---

No.

Rick slid in a third finger as he grunted, silencing that completely idiotic thought.

That wasn’t what he was here for.

He had to make Morty know that he _understood_.

No more, no less.

But Morty wanted more.

Those hands clawed at his back and a mouth connected to his, so slick and so sweet. It reminded Rick of fresh strawberries, but it was by no means actually sweet. Teeth yanked on his bottom lip and a tongue forced itself inside, curling with his own and sending white-hot shivers to his dick.

By absolutely no means was Morty _sweet_.

But Rick wanted to eat him up anyway.

Breaking away, Rick heard a click of teeth as he curled his fingers, feeling a hot breath of air waft into his face and a chest slam up into his. Morty’s dick was leaking so steadily and grinding against his stomach so persistently that there was a small wet spot on his shirt that Rick could feel growing.

And God.

“Ri-Right there---! _Please please please_ \---!”

Morty was killing him.

“I-I-I need more! Rick, please, just _one_ \---!”

The kid was going to be his downfall.

“ _Yes_ ,” Morty groaned out. His hands were more preoccupied now with carving into Rick’s shoulders. “Rick, _yes_. Don’t stop. Oh God--- _don’t stop_.”

Rick was now panting into the boy’s neck, losing himself in the _pump-pump-curl-twist_ rhythm that he had set as he rammed four fingers against Morty’s prostate. The teen was spiraling so deliciously, clawing for Rick to _get closer_ , moving his hips for Rick to _move faster_ , moaning out in that airy, feminine fashion that drives Rick absolutely _wild_.

Growling, he teased Morty’s well-stretched rim, tugging and pulling gently, with a promise of slipping his thumb alongside the occupied four and that was when he snapped.

“ _Ah, Rick_ \---!”

The first couple spurts of Morty’s orgasm hit his chin. The rest he assumed was caught in his shirt. Normally Rick would make a show of rolling his eyes and complaining, but this was different.

This time had been for Morty.

Humming, Rick carefully withdrew each finger one at a time, nuzzling Morty to make sure he hadn’t been hurt during their...interaction, and wiped off the gooey mess on his chin. 

Rather than smearing the rest onto his already-soiled shirt, Rick licked his fingers clean. He always secretly enjoyed Morty’s taste, his spunk and the earthy, human flavor of his ass.

Not that he would ever explicitly say so.

It was something that should go without say, in Rick’s opinion.

Morty had steadied his pants, kneading the sore muscles of Rick’s shoulders absentmindedly. Even with the room being as dark as it was, Rick knew his eyes were closed. The boy was drifting back off to sleep, comforted by Rick’s presence and basking in the delightful glow of a gifted orgasm.

It may be the effects of the liquor still in his system, but Rick didn’t make any move to leave. Because even though he didn’t have an orgasm tonight, he still felt the same high. High off of Morty’s always welcoming and loving presence. High off of the warmth from his much smaller, younger body. High off of the affection and appreciation that he could feel being worked into his shoulders from those small hands.

He couldn’t remember why he had come up to Morty’s room to begin with, but he couldn’t think of a reason to leave.

_Let me make you happy._


End file.
